


A Little Prince

by Dellibelli



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Cursing, Minor to Major Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellibelli/pseuds/Dellibelli
Summary: The young courier sighed as she pulled out the notebook where she jotted down the assignment details. “Hey, think about it this way. I’ll be doing a solid for a former Lamplighter," she said absentmindedly. "Our former mayor, of all people! Even if he and his girlfriend, our only medic, abandoned us in Big Town without saying anything.”Sammy shook his head at this as he returned his attention to his rifle. “Well, just get his son there in one piece. I’d hate for MacCready to punch your pretty face again, Princess.”Summary: A young courier has received an unexpected assignment. Deliver a sick child to his father in the Commonwealth. Seems simple enough... Until she gets the details.





	1. The Delivery

“Is there a problem?

Her eyes suddenly shot back up to the owner of the voice.

“Wha… What was that?” She stuttered out as she absentmindedly folded the bottom corner of the paper in her hands.

“Is there a problem, Angie,” Malcolm repeated with a raised eyebrow. “You spaced out on me there. Were you even listening to the route instructions?”

As far as couriers go, Angie was a seasoned vet. Well, surviving four years as a courier in the Capital Wasteland at least put her above a majority of his employees. She was also one of the few left from the original team when Malcolm set up shop in the old ruins of Grayditch. She and her peers were essential to building the fledgling business. He came from the West looking for a new start away from the ghosts of his past. His mistakes. He didn’t know how to navigate the tunnel systems of the Wasteland, but he had more than his fair share of experience with navigating the radiated remains of the United States, combating dangerous creatures and humans, and dealing with the politics of power hungry groups. Whether you are in the ruins of the former Capital or the deserts of the Mojave, a well-timed killshot to the head can take down anything. Though there certainly are exceptions to that…

Malcolm coughed into his free hand before setting down his ledger.

“This is a long and dangerous trek, Ang. If you’re having second thoughts, I can wait until Chalk or Mags get back from their assignments.”

“No,” she snapped. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t know. Are you serious, Mal? This is a babysitting job. Are we sure the caps are even going to be there for something this minor? Also, why the hell are you coming to me first? Just because I have tits I should be fucking motherly or something?”

“First of all, if you were listening for the past ten minutes, you would have heard that they put down more than half of the amount down as a deposit.” He took off his glasses and looked at the young woman pointedly. Normally, Angie was the consummate professional, but every so often she’d get into a tantrum if the assignment didn’t suit her liking. Her husky voice would suddenly turn shrill and commanding. Ugh, it felt like it was in the back of his eyes. “Second, if there is anything I wouldn’t describe you as, it’s ‘fucking motherly or something’.”

He leaned back into his seat and sighed. “I won’t bullshit you though. A woman would be ideal for this assignment. You’ll be travelling with a large caravan, but only one of the merchants and a guard will know about this assignment. You’ll need to pose as a mother and child. Considering the caps involved, I think it’s important we use discretion. Last thing we need is some greedy merc thinking they can get a ransom out of this. The fewer people know about how potentially precious your cargo is the better. Trust me on that.”

She quickly looked back down at the paper skimming over the delivery details once again. “And I’m the first one you think of?”

He laughed. “Nah, Sammy turned it down. Actually suggested you for it.”

_Of course he did…_

“Angie, you look like your spacing out again. Stop fucking around here, I have a business to run. If you don’t want this, I can…”

“I’ll take it,” she interrupted. A payout this large? How can she turn it down? She needed the money—THEY needed the money. It didn’t take long after the death of that goody-to-shoes Lone Wanderer and Elder Lyons for the Brotherhood of Steel to completely turn around and start charging for water. Threatening farmers and settlements for resources and protection. Evidently they were owed as much for being the heroes that stopped the Enclave and the only true line of protection from ferals and super mutants. With this money, Big Town would stand a chance of surviving—thrive even. They could have an egg nest to keep the BOS at bay and could finally set up a proper trading post, medic center, guard posts…

“Let’s go over the details again.” 

* * *

Even if they didn’t hear the door to the main office slam shut, the stomping and barely contained cursing would have alerted Sammy and Bryan that Angie was on her way over. She found them in Dot’s Diner—Bryan nursing a beer and seeming transfixed on a Grognak comic while Sammy was disassembling his rifle for a cleaning.

“Hey, asshole!” Angie screeched as she kicked open the diner door. “You and I need to have some words. And maybe a fist to your face.”

“For fuck’s sake, Angie. We just repaired that door,” Bryan yelled, dropping his comic to the counter. He quickly rose to run over to the check on the door.

This gave Angie pause.

“Sorry, Wilks,” she quickly muttered.

Grayditch was important to Bryan. He never really adjusted to Little Lamplight after the Lone Wanderer dropped him off. He grew up in Grayditch. His memories were in Grayditch. He lost everything in Grayditch.

The minute he heard from a scaver that a traveler had cleared out the Talon mercs from Grayditch and reclaimed the area for some kind of delivery company, he and a couple of other Big Town residents decided to go over and check it out. Big Town was a settlement full of teens that was never allowed to adjust to the Wasteland. They were always passed over or picked off by slavers or Super Mutants. If there was work to be had, they wanted in on it. Angie, Sammy, Timebomb, Shorty, and Sticky were a few among the first of Malcolm’s new team. The former mercs, scavers, and wastelanders who joined with them didn’t think much of the new meat that joined their ranks. Even though Angie and Sammy were all that was left of the original Big Town crew, they outlasted their naysayers in the end and with it gained the money and notoriety necessary to keep Big Town afloat.

This wasn’t the case for Bryan. This was an opportunity to restore his home. He quickly moved back and helped Malcolm repair the surrounding buildings. Since he grew up outside of Lamplight, he knew enough of the Wasteland to help Malcom set up and expand their reach.

Grayditch was Bryan’s home. Angie always felt immediate regret whenever a tantrum resulted in something breaking. It reached a head sometime around her second year as a courier after a particularly bad delivery. In her frustration, she took a bat to the Pulowski Shelter by the diner. Bryan’s breakdown to seeing the machine damage brought her back to her senses. On top of that, the look of disgust and anger from her peers and Malcolm were enough to send her hiding for a few days with a bottle of scotch and Fancy Lads before Bryan finally found her. They had a long heart to heart, and it was the last of many lessons that started a change in Angie. She didn’t want to be that person anymore controlled by her anger and insecurities. Or at least she tried to be.

That being said…

“What the actual fuck, Sammy,” she spat. “Do you think this is funny?”

“No, I think it’s hilarious,” the younger man smirked, never once looking up from his work.

Bryan barked out a laugh from behind her. Angie shot an annoyed look back at Bryan who was tightening the hinges of the door. He stood up and wiped his blonde locks from his hazel eyes. The younger man shot her a quick wink as he walked back to his stool and comic book. The boy was too handsome for his own good. Too bad Angie didn’t meet his preferences. Though she did wonder how much longer it would take Sammy to pick up the signals.

Her thoughts were interrupted again by Sammy’s laughing. “Come on, Ang. It’s pretty ironic.”

“Pretty sure you’re not using that word correctly,” she snapped.

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes as he got back to reassembling and inspecting the clean rifle. “So, did you take it?”

She sighed as she took the stool next to Bryan and dropped her forehead against the counter. “Yes.”

Sammy and Bryan instantly stopped what they were doing and slowly looked over to the dour woman. “Really?” they asked in unison.

Without raising her head from the counter, she turned over to face her bewildered friends.

“Of course I did. Did you hear how much money they sent? And that was just the deposit. We need those caps. Big Town is barely scrapping by, and we’re set for more kids from Lamplight in the new few weeks. We can set up trade shop, get some guns, repair those Protectrons…”

She paused at the now incredulous looks on both of their faces. “I know it always comes as a shock to you idiots, but I actually do have leadership skills.”

Sammy was the first to speak up. “This is really dangerous, Ang. You’ll be gone for months. You might not come back.” He added the last part quietly.

She picked herself up from the counter and ran her hands across her face to wipe off the excess dirt and dust. “But who else has some modicum of skill, can be trusted, and more importantly is available right now.”

“The boss is,” Bryan spoke up. “He’s more than capable of doing this himself. He’s crossed the damn country so this would be a breeze for him.”

“He needs to stay here, Bryan. You know he does,” she said dejectedly. “He keeps the raiders and mercs away. He’s the only one the other couriers will listen to. He’s also the only one who can deal with the Brotherhood dick-bags. This will fall apart without him.”

She sighed again as she pulled out the notebook where she jotted down the assignment details. “Hey, think about it this way. I’ll be doing a solid for a former Lamplighter. Our former mayor, of all people! Even if he and his girlfriend, our only medic, abandoned us in Big Town without saying anything.”

Sammy shook his head at this as he returned to his rifle. “Well, just get his son there in one piece. I’d hate for MacCready to punch your pretty face again, Princess.” 

* * *

 

Sammy winced as Bryan pinched his nose while laying him down on the cot. He wet a rag and wiped the blood that had poured from his nose.

“You had to call her that, didn’t you.”

“Worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch what I did there? I won't label this as a New Vegas fic though because this (and the next) may be my last mention of the Courier.
> 
> That note aside, thank you indulging me with this pairing that no one asked for. Literally no one based on my search through FF.net, AO3, and kinkmeme.
> 
> Just a warning, it may be several chapters before I actually get Duncan and Angela to the Commonwealth to meet MacCready. There will be flashbacks though for anyone jonesing for their RJ fix.


	2. The Plan

She felt the wetness on her face before she hit the floor. The taste of copper quickly followed as Angela slowly proped herself up with her elbows.

“Lamplight needs a leader, not a fucking princess.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her hand to her nose, the sound of cheers and laughter surrounding her. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the pain or the humiliation.

She suddenly felt very small and very alone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand gently touching her left shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

_Lucy?_

* * *

 

Angela groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. The sun hadn’t quite come out yet, but if she had to guess, it must have been just before sunrise. As her eyes were adjusting to the lingering darkness, a wave of nausea took her by surprise. She quickly rolled over and scrambled to the nearest open window. Vomiting while dangling halfway out of a second story window may not been her most dignified moment in the past twenty-three years, but it beat dealing with the others complaining about the smell and mess in the shared sleeping quarters.

“Fuck me,” she slurred before another dry heave hit her.

“Maybe when you don’t smell like cheap whiskey and a three-week old gore bag, girlie,” a voice grumbled from the other side of the room. What was his name… Dorian?DeLorean? Ding-dong-who-gives-a-crap?

“Shove it, old man.”

Admittedly, she could have come up with a wittier retort (something, something, you’re a bald mungo or whatever), but at the moment she had more pressing matters to be concerned with. Like finding the right angle to empty her stomach without falling face first into the vomit-soaked pavement.

* * *

**_Several hours before…_ **

* * *

 

“Let’s run through this again.”

She let out an annoyed groan and slumped into the chair. “Are you serious, Mal? Fine. The pick-up site will be at the farm house just south of the KX-B8-1 relay tower. From there, we are going to go directly to Canterbury Commons to meet with the caravan. And before you nitpick, I know I only have three days to get there before they head up north. Stick to the caravan at all times, only the ghoul merchant and her guard know about the escort. Feed the kid, give him bathroom breaks, yadda yadda. We’re handing-off the kid at some settlement called ‘Good Neighbor.’ Get paid then head back. Can we wrap this up?”

They had been at this now for hours after Angela parted ways with Bryan and Sammy—discussing the caravan route, supplies budget, her cover story, etc. As much as she knew this was important to nail down, she was still quite distracted. All she wanted right now was to find an empty building, some beer, and a great view of the night sky to clear her head of any ridiculous, superficial issues she had this with assignment. Shake off any grudges, drama, hurt feelings, and just feelings in general. Regaining that focus was just as important as these details. Plus, who knows when she could actually get some time to herself once she had the brat around.

“Damn it, Angela,” Malcolm yelled as he slammed his fist to the desk. “You’re not delivery mirelurk meat to the wharf. Maybe I should just reassign this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” Angela sat back up and exhaled. “I need to get my supplies together. Need to set up affairs with Big Town in case I don’t come…” She paused and looked down at the floor, which suddenly became a welcomed alternative to her boss’s stern stare.

They sat like that until Malcolm broke the silence. “Wait here.”

He stood up and walked upstairs to his sleeping area. The sound of the bed being pushed across the floor echoed through the quiet house before Angela heard the distinct click of a safe being unlocked. Angela slowly tipped her chair back to look up at the room where she heard the rummaging noises. After a few minutes, Malcolm walked back down carrying a weathered backpack, which he dropped on the desk.

Angela raised an eyebrow as he started pulling out some items. A gorgeous pistol with a snakeskin grip and weird symbols etched in on the side. A thick trench coat, helmet, gas mask, and black armor—all of which looked like it had some lettering sanded off. A well-worn pip boy that appeared to have a small crack on the screen.

“There’s also some customized ammo to go with the gun, stimpaks, and some food supplies—though I gotta warn you, the MREs are fucking disgusting. I would only eat that as a last resort.”

Angela pulled the pack over to take a look at the remaining items.

“Geez. Is this some magical back pack? How did you get the armor and pip boy in here with all of this?”

He laughed and stuffed the items back into the bag. “It’s more of a skill. I think you can manage though.”

“Mal, you don’t have to do this. I’ll get my own supplies… Wait, are you taking this out of my pay?” she ended with a scowl.

“No, I’m lending it to you, Angie. I fully expect you to come back with all this intact. Except that MRE crap. That’s all yours. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hold that down ever again.”

“You’re really selling them, Mal.”

Malcolm chuckled again, though it sounded forced this time. A solemn quiet fell between them.

“Look, Angie. If you ask me, this job would be better fit for a merc rather than one of us. But I can understand why the dad wouldn’t want to hire one, especially from here.”

She huffed at the comment.  _Well, he would know, wouldn’t he?_ she thought as she leaned back into the chair.

Taking her response as an agreement, Malcolm continued. “Sasha, the ghoul you’ll be riding with, she made a good argument to his contacts that we would be a safer option. Shit, she did a good job convincing me.”

He sighed as he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Pouring a generous amount in both, he slid a glass over to Angie. “I wish I could give you more to go on. My trek to the Wasteland wasn’t a picnic, but the northeast was hit harder in the Great War. The Capital took a huge hit, but the stretch between Philly and the Wealth… That shit was obliterated. You’re looking at rad storms and ambushes from raiders and muties, and that’s on the safe trail. If you have to go off course… I don’t know what’s out there.”

He raised the glass to his lips. “You’re a capable girl, Angela. You can do this. Stick to the plan, but play it smart. This gear here is your back up plan if something goes titsup.”

Angela gripped her whiskey in one hand as she grabbed the bag and set it by her side. The bullshit with MacCready finally pushed itself to the back burner as the severity of the trip finally washed over her. Tipping her head back, she took the whiskey down in one shot. Holding the glass in front of her, she gave four quick taps on the side. “Let’s go over this one more time,” she said hoarsely.


End file.
